


Fire Burns Them All Away

by StormbornQueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, not sure when i started shipping this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:58:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7249297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormbornQueen/pseuds/StormbornQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon on the night before the battle against Ramsay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Burns Them All Away

The wind of the North bit at Jon’s cheeks as he moved through the camp. Most of the men he passed sat around fires, talking quietly to pass the time until dawn, giving him a polite nod with eyes that seemed so distant and troubled. Sleep wouldn’t come to any of them tonight, as tomorrow they met Ramsay’s army before the walls of Winterfell. Their impromptu Stark army was small and supplies were scarce; Jon wondered if most of the men thought he was leading them on a suicide march. Ramsay had slaughtered Stannis’ army in moments, so how was his much smaller army going to be any different?

His feet walked past his tent on their own accord, and he slowed before the tent that had the blazing fire before it, the flap pulled to the side. He stopped just inside the tent and looked at the figures before him. Melisandre sat before a fire, her back to him. Her left hand was idly running through the soft white fur between Ghost’s ears, his head resting on her thigh as he lay at her feet. She was talking to the wolf, but her words were so soft that he could not hear what she was saying.

“He’s grown to like you,” he said, breaking the calm.

Two sets of red eyes turned to look at him, a smile cracking on Melisandre’s red lips. _They have the same eyes…_

However, her eyes changed back to blue in an instant. “He’s a regal beast, Jon Snow. I can see why you say he’s a part of you. Both bastards of the North, both destine to win this war.”

“You’ve seen him in the flames?” No, Jon still didn’t quite believe in her Lord of Light, but he was starting to believe in her visions. _Beware of daggers in the dark_ echoed in his head and he shivered, stepping further into the tent.

“Yes. He’s always by your side, his eyes blazing with the fire of R’hollr.” She looked up at him as he came to stand by her chair. He was no longer the boy that had laid dead on the table before her all those weeks ago. The boy had died and the man was born, a man of the North. “I know you will triumph in this battle to come Jon…you must.”

Jon stared into the fire for a moment, Ghost lifting his head to look at him, as if waiting for his response. “If I fall, don’t bring me back,” he finally said, looking to Melisandre.

Ghost gave a small growl as he laid his head on Melisandre again. “The Lord of Light will not let you fall. I’m sure of it.”

Her voice was soft and a little unsure. _She actually sounded human._ _Had she not seen the battle in the flames?_

“I have not seen much of this battle in the flames,” she spoke quietly, as if reading his mind. “Just the dead, littered across a field of blood and mud. And a cold, cold wind blowing in from the North…”

Jon’s stomach churned with uneasiness. He knelt down and buried his hands in the thick fur at Ghost’s shoulders. “I don’t want to lead all these men to certain death. Is this the path we’re going down? Am I going to fail again?”

Melisandre leaned forward, placing a hand to his cheek. His black eyes lifted to look at her, his face turning a slight red as the heat of her hand fought away the cold ebbed into his bones. “You mustn’t allow yourself those thoughts. Believe in what you’ve become, Jon Snow. The Lord of Light brought you back for a reason. I’ve seen you wield Lightbringer in the flames, and though you doubt it now, summon the light inside you on the battle field tomorrow and perhaps you will find a power that will surprise you, a power that will help you claim the victory you need. The Lord of Light provides.”

He stood slowly, her hand slipping from his face. He caught it as it fell, and pulled her to her feet in front of him. Ghost jumped up, sitting back on his haunches, regarding the two of them.

“I must not fail…Winterfell is rightfully Sansa’s, and I will win it back for her.” He pulled Melisandre to him, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. The heat of her body swirled around him, but he still felt a cold deep in his bones. “Keep her company on the sidelines tomorrow. She is not to come anywhere near to the battle.”

“You have my word,” she murmured into his shoulder.

Jon drew back, and on an odd whim, he leaned forward and captured her red lips with his. Heat exploded around him, and he felt like he had been thrown into a fire, but it didn’t burn. It was comforting, welcoming. Her hands grazed the hair at his nape, her touch soft. Jon almost lost himself in the kiss, but drew back before he could go any further. They were both panting a bit. “If I fall, don’t bring me back,” he whispered again, brushing his hand across her cheek before turning and walking quickly from the tent. Ghost licked her hand before bounding after Jon, his tail wagging.

“The night is dark and full of terrors, Jon Snow, but the fire burns them all away.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hate me, but I ship them hardcore after reading snippets of a Dance of Dragons. In the books, Ghost pretty much loves Mel like how cute???


End file.
